Terra Australis Templar (A Peter Wilks Archaeological Mystery)

by Gregory House

  Past history finished, she watched Peter run through a list of questions, ticking them off on his fingers. Sid threw his hands wide and launched into his accustomed spiel. Lampie frowned – she didn’t have to hear this to the get the gist. She’d seen this part of the conversation before.

  ‘Pete mate trust me, this is going to be the most fantastic find of the century!’ Soon followed by;

  ‘Mate, I got you in on ground floor of this. This discovery is really going to make careers!’

  She didn’t know Peter or anything of his origins apart from the time she’d spent with him yesterday. Based on that brief association it was difficult to predict how he’d react to the used car salesman speak. If she was on the receiving end of Sid’s spruking, she’d be damned wary and that was from a friend! The discussion continued and each minute Sid appeared happier, which was odd cos she didn’t get the impression that Peter had been won over. Round two had to go to the Pom.

  As far as she could see Sid was losing badly and he didn’t get it. From the little she‘d seen of Peter, he was into facts and perceptions. She’d figured out the gist of his questions yesterday. He was sizing her up, seeing how she answered, maybe even weighing how she worked with Sid and what the relationship was. That prompted further questions. Why didn’t Sid front up to welcome his friend? Oh that was stupid question, it was Sid!

  More concerns began to flag for attention. Whenever there was a difficult meeting or reluctant client, Sid always managed to convince her to tag along – he reckoned she was lucky. Yeah sure lucky, she was blonde with sufficient natural assets to retain any man’s attention. Give it a break, what Sid needed beside him was Barbie doll! Lampie gave a sigh. She was supposed to be the site surveyor and pilot. The longer these ventures lasted, the more complicated it became. Their contract with Lavost Explorations specified that they were to check over all the listed aboriginal and colonial coastal sites as part of some proposed mining or gas project. It was good money and easy work. The museum down in Perth had spent a lot of time and effort in their mapping survey so this was just a case of rechecking their plots and marking any irregularities or potential future sites. Yeah easy money, except for Sid – he’d had a real brainwave;

  ‘Why don’t we check out all those stories and tales of mystery wrecks and strange finds along the Kimberley coast? It could be worth a fortune!’

  Well they had and to Lampie’s annoyance, treasure hunting kept on cutting in on their real commissions. Sid’s hunts took up more and more time. As it stood, they were over a week behind and Lavost Explorations wasn’t going to cut them much more slack. When they’d actually found something up at Deception Bay, whoa, that was when the real difficulties hit home. Now all the schedules had to be severely reworked, to accommodate the new dig. No good deed goes unpunished so they say. Theirs was falling further behind and as for cost, well time is money and they were running out of both. The only glimmer on the horizon was if they’d discovered something really big, their employers would forgive that delay and maybe even reward initiative. That was of course reliant on pulling a really big rabbit out of the hat and since yesterday, she’d come to suspect that their best rabbit puller was one Peter Wilks, who was currently suffering a severe case of ‘over Sid syndrome’. A simple line of logic ran like this – Sid pisses off Peter, Peter leaves, no rabbit. No rabbit, no contract. If she could get it why didn’t Sid?

  She glanced forward at the two of them then back at the compass, judging their direction and speed, then made her own provisions for resolving the current situation. Lampie began to cut back the engine, and swung a couple of points to port. Maybe if she played the tourist guide, it might help. Well compared to Sid’s current plan even being on the Titanic would help!

  “Hey Peter, head back this way!” Her call cut through Sid’s current spiel and Peter, seeing a valid excuse, left Sid up front and cautiously made his way back to the cockpit. “How y’ goin’ Peter. How’s the stomach?”

  The Englishman dropped gratefully onto the seat to her left and lifting his befeathered hat mopped his forehead giving a pensive frown. “Thank you for asking Lampie, it’s still fair. I don’t think I need recourse to hanging over the side yet.”

  She twitched an eyebrow and grinned. “Y’ want to see the tourist sites along the way?”

  He seemed taken back by her question and gave a wavering grin. “You mean to tell me that after yesterday with Trussie, there’s more?”

  “Peter this is the Kimberleys. There’s always more. You haven’t even scratched the surface yet. Just wait an hour an’ I’ll show you a sight to knock y’ socks off!”

  Peter settled down on the seat next to her, clearly relieved to be at a distance from his ‘old mate’. Sid in the meantime had glanced towards her and waggled his eyebrows meaningfully before dropping down through the forward hatch. Lampie ignored the implied message. Bloody hell he could be an arrogant tosser – out of sight and sleeping it off was fine by her! She flashed Peter a quick smile, he was beginning to relax, excellent. “How’d y’ go with Wally yesterday? Y’ both seemed to be hitting it off.”

  The Englishman leant back into the bench seat and spread his arms. One of Lampie’s background instincts moved to the fore and flagged that Peter had a similar spread of shoulders to Brad Pitt, while another waspishly reminded her that steering was more important that ‘sightseeing’. “It was very interesting. I had no idea that this remote part of Australia harboured such a diverse collection of people, incredible really.”

  “Well yeah, the Kimberleys is a great place always a surprise around the corner Peter.”

  The Englishman frowned slightly and stared at the passing coastline off the starboard. Lampie had a moment’s concern that he might need to use the blue bucket again. Instead he cautiously asked another question. “Back at Wally’s barge, ahh his partner is Sarina right?

  “Yeah.”

  Peter pursed his lips and began to blush, his cheeks reddening. “All right then, ahh how do I phrase this without sounding offensive? Where does May Ling stand in this? Oh no I can’t believe I am asking this, I sound like a prude!”

  Lampie shook her head and laughed, while Peter’s face flushed a deeper red. “May Ling’s a partner as well. It’s a very open arrangement. Back at Broome there’s a stack of jealous blokes, who can’t work out how Wally does it!”

  “Ahh, yes I see. Ahhmm, intriguing customs you have around here.”

  Lampie watched Peter closely. His cheeks were still bright red and he was looking very nervous. Suddenly she burst out into laughter, oh yes it was so obvious! “Tell me Peter, did May Ling hit on you?”

  Oh dear that was obviously a touchy spot. Now he looked like a beetroot! “Ahh well, that is to say the, ahhh hmm well, I consider myself a gentleman and, and ahh, I had no desire to upset my hosts or intrude upon any prior arrangement.”

  Lampie laughed – that was so cute, a little stiff and awkward, but still cute. For Peter the admission appeared to set off the embarrassment nerve and he looked anywhere but straight at her. A wicked thought prompted her to play at offence, though his English rose blush was sufficient payment for teasing.

  “I wouldn’t worry Peter. Wally and the girls have a very open relationship. If May Ling made an offer, then it wouldn’t have been a problem.”

  Peter seemed both satisfied and gratified by that answer and began to regain his normal Pommie tan. Lampie made a mental note. Next time she met up with Wally’s barge, she was going to have a chat with May Ling and get the full blow by blow story.

  Having been restored to a more relaxed demeanour, Peter cleared his throat loudly, before hesitantly asking a question. “Wally asked me to do him a favour, and I’d like to but I am not sure how that will fit in with the plans of this expedition.”

  Lampie noticed the careful omission of Sid with this mention of the expedition. The other fact was that Peter was asking her for permission. That was kind of gratifying – if only the rest of the ‘expedition’ w
as so deferential it would all run so much smoother! “What’s he want, though I reckon it’s got something to do with the ‘First Australians’ if its for Wally?”

  “The who?”

  “First Australians.”

  “I thought that was the aboriginals?”

  “Well it is and it isn’t.” Oh dear this wasn’t going to be easy. Lampie rapidly tried to figure out how to explain the controversy surrounding this subject. Long talks with Wally had made her quite familiar with the nuances and intricacies of the debate, though to a Pom like Peter, it could just end up confusing him.

  “Well he showed y’ the Wandijani figures in his slide show and the ones up on Raft Point.”

  “Yes, it amazes me that they’re everywhere around here, more artwork than the V&A as it where!”

  “Then I reckon he showed the Bradshaws – that’s how he usually does it.”

  “Why yes he did – extremely intricate figures and drawings. I can’t say I’ve ever seen anything similar.”

  “Okay, there’s a bit of a stoush going on about them amongst the experts. One group reckons the Bradshaws are images left by the earliest arrivals, maybe seventy thousand years ago.”

  Peter nodded at the first part. That hadn’t been so hard – now for the kicker. “You’ve seen the differences between them and the Wandijani?”

  The Englishman nodded once more. Though he had acquired a slight frown at her cautious retelling, he appeared to be fast at picking up subtle nuances.

  “Well, one theory is that the differences between the two reflect two separate waves of migration and because the Wandijani overlay the Bradshaw’s it’s been said that they drove out the Bradshaw culture.”

  There done, simple, and without referring to the shit fight over how that affects the current land rights battle and white settlement. The Pommie academic seemed to mull over the abrupt end of the explanation. He gave her the strangest look as if considering whether to reveal a long held family secret. “All right, I think I understand the situation. It sounds similar to one we have in Britain with the genetic heritage project. They have been investigating the genetic make up of the average Briton. The results have upset a lot of cherished notions of Anglo Saxon invasion and conquest.”

  Lampie let out a relieved sigh. Wow an understanding pom. She really didn’t want to get into a debate about this – far too many landmines.

  “So I can look for Wally’s rock art?”

  “What? Oh yeah, sure, no worries.” That discussion concluded, she asked Peter to pass her a bottle of ginger beer from the small cooler chest under the bench. Yah Matsos! Yeah Wally was right, they were going to have to buy a few cases of this before the next trip! Lampie gave her companion another covert glance while she adjusted their heading on the compass and spun the wheel slightly.

  Sid’s old mate was smiling and relaxed as he stared off into the distance, watching the swooping of the crested terns. He was smart. He’d picked up on the ‘political problems’ straight away. Maybe Sid had really got lucky this time. That’d make a change. “Lampie, you said earlier we were going to see the sights. Ahh, where?”

  “To a place so immense and awe inspiring, it’ll knock yer socks off. Just watch the view to port for the next ten minutes!”

  Peter gazed at the changing scene on the western horizon as she kept track on the chart and matched it up with the GPS nav system. According to her estimate any minute now and…

  “Is that an island with a waterfall, over there?’

  Perfect navigation, Peter’s question was bang on! “Yeah kinda. What you can see is the eastern edge of Montgomery Reef. It’s about forty square kilometres in size and surrounds the island in an enormous ring.” Lampie waved her arm northwards and then swung it around to the southwest as an indication of the reef’s extent.

  “It’s better to be here at the start of low tide. That way you get to see the reef slowly emerge then the water surges off it in cascading torrents as the tide drops. It can last for hours as all the water held in the inner lagoon flows over the reef. Then as the level falls further, the outflow channels look like rapids or waterfalls.” Lampie smiled at the Englishman’s reaction. It usually struck first timers like this, the jaw dropping splendour of the Kimberleys tides. She supposed that was one of the reasons she stuck it out here for so long. The Kimberleys was a hard drug to shake out of your system, and time in the ‘big smoke’ only made withdrawal that much harder to bear.

  “Can we land? Is it safe to walk over?”

  “Yeah easy. The returning tide is hours away. Grab a good pair of shoes and we’ll do the tourist bit and have a walk over it. When the tide’s out it leaves small pools all over the reef packed full of fish, coral and usually a couple of turtles.”

  Peter looked fascinated at the opportunity and dropped into the cabin to search out his gear. Great, spend a pleasant few hours wandering around and then head off in the later afternoon catching the surging tide into the Deception Bay estuary. What better way to top off an afternoon. Best of all without their glorious leader as Sid snored away his hangover. Lampie was certain a few hours in her company would have Peter all ready to dig like a rabbit tomorrow. Lampie gave herself a metaphorical pat on the back. All they needed now was Sid not to screw up and this dig would be a piece of cake! She switched off the engine and dropped the anchor. This was indeed going to be one bonza afternoon!

  Deception Bay Site Map

  Chapter 10 Deception Bay

  As the darkness slowly began to wash away from the eastern spread of the horizon the predawn greeting began. First a few tentative squawks and trills, then slowly increasing as more native wildfire shrugged off the shroud of night until it became a low level cacophony.

  “Hummph arggh, oh blast where’s that damned alarm?” Peter’s trembling hand lurched out from the sleeping bag and searched for the non-existent clock on top of the non-existent table. This existential problem resolved itself by the collision of his searching appendage and a rock.

  “Owwh!” Pulling back inside his sleeping bag like a startled tortoise, Peter sucked on a scraped knuckle while dragging the quilted cover over his head. Closing his eyes tight, he wished he was somewhere else, definitely somewhere with a decent bed and less wildlife. Recalling the brief pleasure of a comfortable bunk, even if it rocked, he tried imagining himself back there – the gentle pitch of Wally’s boat, the rhythmic swaying of Lampie in a grass skirt to the sound of Jungle Blues. Yes that was it. Oh my, what a sight to behold, as her long blonde plait swished and gyrated to the braying tempo of the horns, the flash of smooth firm thighs betwixt the fronds. Unfortunately as dreams will, the scene shifted unexpectedly. Fiona stepped into the frame and strangely, she wasn’t at all appreciative of the dancing, pushing Lampie off the stage and shooing away the band. Then she turned her dark brown glare on him and it was plain to Peter that Fi wasn’t happy. She took a step forward and…

  The outside chorus ratcheted up to operatic levels, and Peter’s eyes snapped open. Oh flip, flipper and flipping hell. From dream to nightmare in a second and the noise! What, did every feathered fiend in the Kimberleys flock here specifically to give him a welcome? Peter lay back, resisting the urge but the medley of tweets, cries and chirps hit a crescendo that even a wadded sleeping bag couldn’t keep out. He surrendered, pulled on his site uniform of jeans, boots, a battered leather waistcoat festooned with pockets, and his feathered headwear, then struggled out of the tent and looked up.

  For those familiar with the usual Eurocentric concepts of space – cloudy skies, hazy smog filled distances, enclosing hills or the bleakly endless concrete forest of the ‘estates’. Dismiss all those images or the eternally promoted vistas of the Costa del Sol. The Kimberleys isn’t like that and past any possible comparison. It’s rawness, vivid bands of colour and wide space is a shock, even for most Australians. It’s enormity is a little difficult to encompass. Peter at least had a few months exposure to the Australian sky in Queensland, time to build up a
tolerance to the unshrouded horizon. In the country’s northwest that preparation was as inadequate as a raincoat in a typhoon. His inoculation was stripped bare in an instant, as he beheld the sweep of the sky. It may sound like a commonly stated fact that the heavens start from one horizon and transverse the arc to the other. A simple statement yes, also wrong in every way conceivable. The only way Peter found that he could adequately sort through the sensory overload was to place the vista in historical terms. In ancient times, the majesty of space filled with translucent blue, was considered so awe inspiring that the ancient Egyptians gave it the name and attributes of a goddess. She was called Nut and her duty was the continuation of daily life. Each evening she swallowed the sun and gave birth to it the next day. To ancient societies, this mystical event was a singularly important and vital daily function in the Pharaoh’s kingdom and they gave her cult high status in the Egyptian pantheon. Well, if the Egyptians had arrived here and witnessed the splendour of the Kimberleys sky, the coast would have been lined with temples to Nut that would have rivalled those in Thebes or Memphis.

  Though on that train of thought, if by some miracle of navigation the Egyptians had settled Terra Australis, one deity in particular would be extremely popular in the top end, Sobek the crocodile god, protector of travellers and guardian of the Nile crocodiles.

  Peter stood staring at the sky for a while. How long was not quite possible to figure out but the smell of freshly brewing coffee snapped him out of his reverie and drew him puppet like towards the campfire. The aboriginal fellow they called Uncle Bill was tending a strange looking object on the red glowing coals. It was made of two silvery bulbous flattened hemispheres, joined by an arcing tube that flowed upward like a Henry More sculpture, from the bottom nestling amongst the heat to the spluttering top from which the scented aroma wafted toward him.